Sweet Revenge
by Aerilon452
Summary: John takes his revenge on Dana Whitcomb.


Summary: John takes his revenge on Dana.

Rating: T

Pairing: Helen and John.

**SWEET REVENGE:**

John had been tracking Dana Whitcomb; the woman who stole his child, his daughter. He had been following her for weeks just waiting for the chance to kill her, to take her life, and to take the sweet revenge that was due to him on behalf of Ashley. During those weeks he had barely been able to speak her name let alone think it. It hurt too much to remember the daughter he barely knew, but that paternal instinct was strong. That instinct was what was driving him to take out Whitcomb. She needed to die and John wanted to be the one to have her blood on his hands.

Dana had gone down a side street and immediately she knew she shouldn't have. Someone had been following her, Druitt had been following her. Soon she would die, but she wanted to prolong that date for as long as she could. Today however had her at a disadvantage. Druitt was breathing down her neck and she could clearly feel the blade at her throat. He would not be far away from taking her life. In truth she was ready to die and if it was Druitt at least it would be a quick clean slice to the throat, she would bleed out, and then she would be dead. Dana hurried into her building and rushed upstairs to await the nighttime visit of Jack the Ripper.

**NIGHT FALL:**

John waited for the cover of darkness, waited until the last light in the apartment building was extinguished. He slipped in through the cracked door and carefully walked up the stairs, every step he took was measured, controlled. He would not rush the moment of his sweet revenge. Dana would die and it would be by his hand and his alone. Before he knew it he was at her door. John drew one of his knives and slid it between the door lock and to door jam. The lock popped and John entered the dark apartment. Every thing was quiet, not even the air stirred. Looking around John saw a flash of white and turned to stop the knife from lodging in his back. It was Whitcomb and he was thrilled that she was putting up a fight.

She had been waiting for him. Dana wasn't going to let him just him kill her even though she knew she was going to die; she was going to make it hard for him. After he entered she tried to sink the knife in his back, but Druitt had seen her and stopped her. He twisted her wrist hard, a sickening crack sounded on the darkness, and the knife clattered out of her hands. Druitt maneuvered her so her back was pressed to his chest and the feel of cold, hard, steel was at her throat. Without warning he teleported them out of her rented apartment and to a street she hoped never to see in her current position. Fear flooded her system as she looked around the darkened street of White Chapel; the Rippers killing ground.

John could feel her fear, and it felt good. He brought her to this place to close a circle in a sense. This was where the Ripper got its start and it was here he hoped to put it to rest with the death of the woman who had taken his daughter from him. If he allowed his mind to wonder then he could picture Helen stepping out of the shadows, her gun raised, and aimed at him. His body turned to face the same direction where Helen would have been, where she had been over a hundred years ago. John took the knife from Dana's throat so he could run it down the front of her shirt, slicing off the buttons as he went. More fear flowed from her and it thrilled the dark part of him. With the knife John sliced down her sternum, enough so that she would bleed but not die. She had started to cry out in pain but Druitt clamped his hand over her mouth so no one would interrupt him. Listening to her muffled sobs should have thrilled him even more, but like he told James he was losing the taste for the sport. John let her go but before she could run John drove the knife into her heart and felt her warm blood flow over his hand. Dana's eyes went glassy and then she crumbled to a heap at his feet. John looked at her with utter indifference. Now she was just nothing to him; she was dead and he felt nothing more than a dull ache of satisfaction. This wouldn't bring Ashley back, John knew that. And with that he left White Chapel for Helen's Sanctuary.

**SANCTUARY:**

**HELEN'S OFFICE**

Helen had stayed up late going over different ports of abnormal sightings. If she didn't want to go to sleep she might as well work. In truth Helen didn't want to close her eyes lest she see Ashley again. Then the pain would start all over and she would cry. Helen was tired of crying, tired of feeling pain. She was just tired. Turning in her chair Helen looked at the pictures of Ashley she had. She wasn't surprised when she felt more than saw John enter her office. She knew it was him but something was off about the way he felt.

Helen got up and looked at John. His hands were coated in blood and she had a feeling she knew who's blood it was. John had taunted her about the day he would kill Dana, about how he would immediately come running to tell her it was done. A small part of her felt genuine joy that John was here and he had news she wanted to hear. But she squashed the feeling down and snapped, "What do you want John?"

John looked down at his hands and then to Helen. He had cone to her with the intent on telling her that Dana was dead. And now that he was here he was finding it hard to force the words past his lips. John knew how hard it was for Helen to hold herself together. It wasn't the same for him. True he felt a void, but it was just that, a void. It was a blackness that he hadn't known existed in his heart. Helen had accused his involvement as nothing more than ego, but it wasn't that. Ashley was a part of him, a part of the life he never got to live with Helen. "It's done, Dana has been dispatched."

"John?" Before she could stop herself Helen took a step towards him.

"I thought I would feel relieved, but I feel nothing. There is just a void." John dropped to the floor and let the numbness set in. It drowned out everything, all the rage, all the hate, everything was gone.

Helen crouched down in front of him and let the part of her that still loved John out. She reached out her hand and caressed his cheek until she looked at him. His eyes looked dead, devoid of anything. It sliced at her heart to think that killing one woman would do this to him. Dana Whitcomb had taken Ashley and maybe that had shocked John deeper than the electroshock. She had blamed him of only being involved because of his ego, but now she knew those words to be false. On some deeper level John hurt over Ashley's death. If Ashley had lived, Helen had no doubt that John would have gone after Dana, but it would have had a different outcome. John would have taken pleasure in the death of another. Now, all Helen could see was the void he was talking about. She only wished that she could help him trough this. Helen would rather have John, the murderer than John, the empty shell. John looked at her and then he was gone. Quickly her hand dropped and she felt alone. Deep down she knew John would be back until then she had work to do. But she couldn't get the image of him and his dead eyes out of her mind. Stopping, Helen got up and walked to the fire place and tried to shake the image of John from her mind.


End file.
